Digimon Virus
by AceCandy
Summary: Two years after the Tamers of Shinjuku defeat the D-Reaper and save the world, they force to depart from their partners and return to their normal life. Unknown to them, a part of the D-Reaper manage to escape unharmed and evolve itself, infect the inhabitants of the Digital World. 6 kids meet their Digimon and together aim to destroy the threat they dub, the D-Virus.
1. The jock that scare the dark

Takeo woke up from the ring tone. His entire body, from his head to his abdomen and to his legs, all ache inside and around his body. His throat is dry, every breath felt like glue stick in his mouth, every breath makes his head throbbing more than he needs it. Reluctantly, he stands up and walks over to his phone, grunting.

"Hello?". The hissing is the only noise he heard. When Takeo looks at the phone, it illustrated neither the number nor the identity of the caller on his phone, just the hissing. He turns off the phone and moves back to his bed, flapping his white undershirt to cool down his body. Glances outside, he search for any trace of light, any signs that drives this place into _The City of Young People_. None come. No light of bars or shops fill the dark sky nor sound of yelling, so loud it can reach Honmachi. Only silence that occupies the entire city, blackness that masks what make its special. He leads out a frustrated sigh before stepping back to his bed.

"Hello?". Stop in his track, he whipped at the voice. The phone produced no noise; still the screen still bright up and he can still hear faintly the hissing. And the voice sounds awfully like Nikko. When the voice echoed again, it affirms his suspicion and lures him to grab the phone.

"Why are you still awake?". He growls at the young boy. A pang of guilt build up inside him as the boy squeak lightly, but the last thing he desires is the boy aunt complain the next morning.

"Well... um ... what about you, Takeo-senpai?", the young boy answer, a defiant and authoritative tone in his trembling voice. "Didn't you, like, having an important test tomorrow?".

"What I'm having tomorrow is none of your concerned, Nikko!", he grumbles, "And I don't want to hear that tone again, you hear me! Again with that talk and it Rikona who you will talk with, not me!". And with that, he put the phone on the table, while he leans against it, let's out a heavy sigh.

_'It's my fault.', _Takeo realized. It's not the first time the boy have react this way to him. Many time for the past few days whenever Takeo yells at him, Nikko always retort back, albeit force and still with a hinge of fear, and no matter what threat he made the boy continued this behavior. And it usually at Takeo, which surprise to him and everyone else. He will talk with him again the next morning, and if that didn't work then he will do it again, and again, and again until he changes. Sensing the silence, Takeo guesses that Nikko has obeyed him and walk back to his bed, dreading for what could be his longest day tomorrow.

_"Two companions waiting at the house, carrying the mirror they vow to protect.". _He startled by the soft mezzo-soprano voice. Looking at the phone, he shocked to see it still on, despite the sign of no battery. He presses the phone up again his ears, listens closely for any further hints or clues from the woman.

_'Goddammit, I'm being Kioshi of all people.' _he thought in delight, recall the blue-haired boy with his weird and annoying obsession with minutiae. And with those bright green eyes is a temper most girl fall over their heels for (and still is to his dismay) and the major source of some competitiveness from the guy. A mature and cool demeanor most strive to achieve or should achieve. Or should put down and squash it completely. He shakes his head in disbelief. Sometimes he would have these shameful feelings in him that come to the blue boy himself. Those feelings of craving to shove him down on to the ground. To kick him, punch him, smash him on to every part, every surface he could find. To break him with such power that the boy would beg for mercy. To see tear drip down those moss color eyes and that precious mouth spill his blood on those clean shirt. Takeo hears a crack, yet he pays no mind as he reminisces the pleading from the blue boy, begging for him just go away, plead him to just stop. He let out a grin, thrilled at the pleasure of blood flow down his skin, of the cry of pain. Of how sweet it sounds. Of how the blue boy keeps his wrist from hitting someone else. He grimaces, unable to identify who did he punch that day or even why. His satisfaction died down at something twisted inside his gut, something aches him. The noise of explosion haul him out of his thought, and his phone, and attract him to a giant column, ascending from the dark street below.

As broad as the Skytree, the column illuminates a riot of color, from the sweet of aqua to the chintzy of plum to the translucent of snow, all-dancing with the dark sky and on the firebrick roof, through the crowded street and occupied cars lying on the street. A beautiful moment, a spectacle few could see and may never see. Intrigued by what could be its reason for existence, he put his phone on the table then rush to his wardrobe. Open it, a row of monotone clothes greeted him, all share the same palette. Changing to his everyday clothes, a blue and white Karo pattern shirt over his wear white undershirt with blue pant, he picks up his black armbands, pulls out his brown jacket and steps over for his phone when he catches a crack on the phone screen.

_'When does this happen?'. _Having no memory of when this happens, he put it aside for his fascination with the bright column overshadow it. Put the phone inside his pocket, he opens the door gently, scanning for the presence of _his father_. To his relief, he and his brother are sleeping (the heavy snoring show that) and seem unheard by the explosion. Tip-toe his way through the corridor, he arrives at the front door unharmed and unheard, which to him is an achievement itself. Putting on his sneakers, a white one with blue marks, he opens the door and greets by a stream of chill air. He breathes out, reveling in the freshness the wind brings in contrast to the hot of his room. When he glanced up to the sky, it shocks him to see a swarm of yellow snake jump up and down through the black cloud. And it all starts from the column. He let out a smirk, enthusiastic of what he could find until he groans, remembers Nikko would be there, and with that hours upon hours of the kid talking and talking about the column. With Kioshi. So make it two voice that will be piercing his head all day long tomorrow. Chuckling, he placed his hand into the pocket and strolled down the corridor.

Exiting his apartment, Takeo first thought was scared. The street is silent, with cars lying on the road and next to the pavement, people lay limp on their seat, feet on the wheel and head on their leather seat. Shops remain open, welcome hidden guests to their fruits and vegetables. Next to each store and sprinkle around are bodies curl up against the cold breeze that threatens to extinguish their life. Wrapping his arms around his body, shivering from the cold wind threatening to snuff him along, he raced through the street. Each step he takes, the light fade away, blacken the street and welcome the giant with its humongous body, and its muscular arm, and it blood-hungry eyes. Faintly heard it croaky voice, another voice plead him to stop. He shakes his head, whispers him to be quiet, to assure that all will be alright. Yet he says to him, scary and small.

_It will come. Dad tells it will come for bad kid. And it will always come for bad kid. _Wanting to silence him yet find no heart in doing it, or have nothing to argue against, Takeo continued to walk, to where he has forgotten, while whispering assurance words in his honeyed tone to him, no matter how sickening it sounds. Yet, as the light fades away, he starts to weeping, his body shaking not because of the wind, his cheeks soak and each step quicker than the last. When light can only be barely seen, Takeo run, sniff and sob, try to get far away from the monster.

And the light shut away.

And the giant above him.

And he squatted.

And the tear starts to spilling down on to the grey dirt.


	2. The optimistic that forgot his friend

Taishiro groan loudly as their car stop again. He looks outside with a vacant stare, watching others driving slowly through the crowd, swearing and mashing horn with such force he sure the car would break before each could even reach the city. He looks on the other side, watching their soon-to-be-home light up radiantly between the dark sky and red light of cars.

"Excited for your new home, son!". He looks over to his dad, who smiles broadly at him in which he returns humorlessly. A man in his mid-thirty, and the one who is the reason his family moves to the busiest and hottest city in the entire Tokyo, in spite of Taishiro opposition of the idea as he never fond of changing, of moving somewhere else. Still, his mother has decided and that the end of it. He gives his mother, the driver, a hard glare before turned to look at the city. Even from here, stuck in the flood of cars and noise, the city itself seems to demand everybody attention, attract them to their many bars and stores, selling merchandise that serves to satisfying personal needs. He sees very little point in moving here.

"Hey, dad!", he kicks at his father seat, "Why are we moving here instead of to Saitama?".

"Because,", Taishiro's mother cut off his dad, "this is the cheapest city we can afford to stay, Tai. And besides, there aren't many convenient stores in the city.".

"Cause they already have better stores.". Shibuya is the most crowed prefecture in Tokyo due to the number of shops reside and having two of the busiest train stations, Shinjuku and Shibuya Station, contribute no less to the city fame. In addition, building like Shibuya 109 and Takashimaya, two of the most well-known shopping center, evaluate the city into a major commercial center. When the car starts to move, he gives out a joyous yell which earned a chuckle from his dad and a mumble from his mother, in which he take pleasure from.

Leaning against the leather seat, the roughness comforts him for his needed sleep, Taishiro takes a glance for the light outside, the light comes from his soon-to-be home. He can already imagine what his house would look like. One giant room in the middle, where his parent would occupy their time there, talking and working from day to night, sleeping in their shirt and pant of yesterday. The kitchen would be a small one at the corner of the house, so small none wouldn't recognize its existent, at least until they are hungry, which he doubt they would. A bathroom where they would wait for his dad for half an hour and him for an hour more. His room would be filled with posters of Ed and Al standing back-to-back, Ed's optimistic face and Al's weird metal helmet greeting him every morning, and red wall paint on all four sides. His bed would sit nicely next to the window, anticipate for the bright sun (or the yelling of neighbors (or his mother)) to wake him up. Taishiro giggles like a child, anxious for the waiting for what his new home will be like. As the car moving through the darken tree outside, Taishiro eyes close, drift off to wherever his mind wants him to be. Home.

_He sees a house with a wooden door. It has been abandoned, sheltered the now shunned Kanbara family. Though despite the house associate, the house was and are the favorite playground for kids his age. All, after the bell ring as the sun stride down bellow the mountain, rush through the bronze gate, the wall of their dad and mom as all can't wait to meet at the _Big Old Kanbara House_. When they get to their home, they change into the most comfortable clothes they want, and then swoop out of the house and ran. And ran. And ran. Until their eyes were bright up. House with the wall now broken down, with wood keep the termite and the ant, with roof still sheltered invaders from the heated sun, with pond store water. Taishiro push open the _Big Door _his friend would call, and walk inside. Seeing Shizu and Shin _(Kazuhiko and Kazuko! That's their name!) _run through the front yard aching his heart. He can still remember the twins laugh, their voice always the one he heard first. He can still hear cicadas making sound under its belly, of sunflower spread its smell over the field _(things he now only faintly remember, as smoke and car horn are now what stick in his mind)_. As he walks to the _Tea Room_, he sees, to his left, a boy with a goggle, black strap and red glass on his brownish hair, standing against the tree. Though the boy brings no memories to him. His face blurred, nothing more than just blob of wheat color, and when he walks to the boy, Taishiro meet a pair of eyes bright up like fire. The fire spread, dancing on the grass and the pond, jump up and down on the roof, deafen the yelling of his friend, except for two words echo clearly through the cracking of fire _

Stay away.

The voice of his dad wakes Taishiro from his slumber. Rubbing his eyes, he looks at him which earned him a pat on the head.

"We reach the place, buddy! Our new home!". Our new apartment is what he would have say. Eight stories tall, with white paint covered the building and windows stand side-by-side, facing the city in front of it, catching it bright light. In his usual mood, he would consider the building is no different than what the textbook teaches him, but right now, the building is no different than what the textbook teaches him. He turns back to the car and pick up his black backpack, hung it over his shoulder, which earns a grunt from his friend, and walks to his new home.

Once open the door to his room, Taishiro was greeted by an air of disconsolate. Compare his parent room, his own was much smaller. Encapsulate by four bluish walls, plus the broken bed frame and the torn down wallpaper spreading all over the room no doubt raise the question of the advertising credibility. Though he was grateful for the owner of not painted it in hot pink, which is where his parent resides. He chuckles at the sight of his mother and dad jaw dropped in terror at the only room left, before both walk reluctantly and close the door. Walk to the broken bed, reside at the position he like the most, he put the bag and himself on the bed and laying down, ready for his first sleep in the City of Young People. Hear something dropped, Taishiro open his eyes to find his bag is absence on his bed, instead of on the floor. When he peeked from his bed, he was taken back by the movement of the bag. Or something inside it. Hesitantly, he reaches out for his bag, and count to three, open it.

Greeting him was a pair of green eyes, looking at him in relief. Yellow scale with point teeth, the creature in front of him resemble no more than a dragon. On it was black samurai armor, with ruby on its forehead and purple diamond pin between each brick clad. Accommodate with it, a helmet, with two gold horn protrudes and split apart. Taishiro look at the dragon in shock and confusion, yet not horror. A sense of familiarity radiate from the dragon, as if he has seen him before.

_'But when?'_. The dragon jumps out of the bag and onto the spot in front of him, stretching its body to the maximum of half his bed, then look at him with such a stern look it mortified him. Taishiro opens and closes his mouth, unable to open up a conversation, a thing he have a knack for. A natural conversationalist. The first thing everyone praise, his grandparent whom they forced to leave behind, his obedient dad and his bossy mom, all would praise him of how he so great at just open and keeping a conversation for hours and hours. And it makes him a go-to man whenever his dad needs to attract new customers, or resolve dispute. Yet here he was, couldn't speak a word for the dragon with an annoy look on his face. Though, the feeling of familiarity radiate annoyed him no less. He groan, grabbed his hair and twisted he no doubt it would leave a mess.

"Fukumoto-sama, please stop!". Taishiro stop. And look at the dragon wide eyes.

"How the hell do you know my family name!? And moreover, sorry if I have asked this before, but what the hell are you?". The dragon opens his mouth, then suddenly close it. His eyebrow turns downward, and the look in his eyes told Taishiro what he afraid of. He rubbed his forehead before looking back at the dragon.

"Do you know about my condition, Ryu-Ryudamon? Correct?". Ryudamon nodded.

"Since when?". The dragon avoids looking at him. An act of distrust. Hurting by the act, Taishiro decides to push it away as he and the dragon just meet for the first time (minus all the time before). Looking down, Taishiro were startled by the condition of Ryudamon feet. Swollen and broken, the feet were cover in dirt and bruise. Its whole body was painted in mud, and underneath scars that stretch along its torso and bruise still visible despite for, presumably, a week-long journey with him. It nails, what must be as long as a rearview mirror, now just dull out by what (or who) he unsure. Looking at the face, under the green eye are dark bags he missed. The dragon was, to be bluntly, a shell of its glory. A refugee of sort. Thinking for what must be minutes, Taishiro wraps his arm around Ryudamon waist, pick him up and put it gently before walking out to the door.

"Where are you going, Fukumoto-sama?". Glance back, he saw Ryudamon walking slowly to the edge of the bed, eyes staring questionably at him.

"I'm gonna ask for some bandages from my mother. She bound to have some in her suitcase. And some snack for you to eat, as I'm sure you're pretty hungry.". Let out a weak chuckle, he closes the door and walk to his parent room, playing in his mind all the words, all the act his mother will put up. And of how it will end, by just a question he going to asked her.

_'Why do you hide him from me?'_.


End file.
